


Tickling the Ivories

by bleedingballroomfloor



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Henry, Canon Compliant, Competence Kink, Dirty Talk, Kissing, M/M, Music, Older Alex/Henry, Piano, Piano Sex, Post-Canon, Sex on Furniture, Teasing, Top Alex, inappropriate use of a piano bench, they're engaged because i say so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingballroomfloor/pseuds/bleedingballroomfloor
Summary: "What is it, baby?" Alex asks with a lick of his lips, one hand squeezing Henry's thigh and the other cupping his face.Henry growls. "You know what it is, you wanker," he whispers. They're so close that their lips brush with each word they speak. "Now are you going to continue to tease me like the arse you are, or are you going to drag me to the bedroom and actually fuck me?""The bedroom?" Alex chuckles, sliding up his hand to thread his fingers through Henry's hair. He moves his mouth to Henry's ear and says, "Remember when you wouldn't let me fuck you on that piano back in Kensington? Well, this one isn't an old antique, babe."
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 24
Kudos: 214





	Tickling the Ivories

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [allmylovesatonce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmylovesatonce) and [floatingaway4](https://archiveofourown.org/users/floatingaway4) for bringing up the idea of Alex and Henry doing it on the piano in their home since it's not an antique and prompting me to write this. I hope this meets the headcanon!
> 
> Another big thank you to [failing_at_fangirling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failing_at_fangirling) for supplying me with images of the baby grand piano, which you can find [here!](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/800581254281691146/800581313806729226/image0.webp)
> 
> One last thing: [this](https://youtu.be/1yE8vb8LPEk) is what I picture Henry playing in the beginning, a part of Stéphane Grappelli's _Les Valseuses._ I'm not completely sure if the piece is actually related to the French movie with the same name, but it was too funny not to mention. Enjoy!

It's always a pleasure arriving home after a long day at the law firm and hearing the sweet sound of the piano coming from the study on the second floor. Alex smiles to himself as he sets down his bag and toes off his shoes. He creeps up the stairs as quietly as he can. He doesn't want Henry to overhear him and disrupt his playing, especially if he's doing a small livestream, something he only recently discovered and has since fallen in love with. And Alex loves watching him. Sometimes he plans bigger ones, where viewers can request a song along with a donation to the many charities Henry helps run, but more often, he sets up his Instagram Live and quietly plays three or four pieces of his choosing before shutting it off. He does it most when his insomnia is particularly bad, and Alex usually wakes up from either the sounds of the piano or the lack of Henry beside him and spends the next fifteen minutes standing in the doorway of the study, watching Henry's small performance. Other times, he does it when he gets stuck with his writing, and he needs another creative outlet to get the words flowing again. And most recently, he does it because he wants to. Showing another part of himself off to the world. Giving himself away.

Alex can tell by the lack of stiffness in Henry's shoulders and the warm smile on his face that today is simply a "I want to play piano for others because I want to" kind of day. He's dressed casually, as today was a rare day off for Henry, clad in a gray shirt and a dark green cardigan. The only thing he's wearing on the bottom is a pair of bright blue boxers, which, thankfully, is unseen to viewers by the angle of his phone. But Alex sees all of it, all of Henry, with his slightly unkempt hair and fingers dancing elegantly over the piano keys, eyes closed, completely lost in the music. He leans against the doorframe, settling in to watch Henry play.

Alex loses count of how many minutes pass before Henry's hands still and he opens his eyes. He reaches for his phone and ends the live, setting it down next to him on the bench. He has a content little smile on his face, one of Alex's favorite smiles.

"You sound good," he says.

Henry starts slightly. "Christ, you scared me," he laughs when he turns around and sees Alex. "How long have you been home?"

"I just got back." Alex crosses over to the piano bench and slides his hand over the nape of Henry's neck. "Scoot."

Henry moves over and Alex slips in next to him. He keeps his hand on his neck, gently massaging the dips of his shoulder blades, and Henry automatically leans into the touch. "I like seeing you play for others more."

Henry smiles warmly at him, his eyes fond. "I do as well. I particularly enjoy these livestreams. Takes some of the pressure off when behind a screen, doesn't it?"

"Mmh. I still think one day you'll be able to play to a crowd as big as the fucking Sydney Opera House."

"Unlikely. Although the fact that you think so truly warms my heart."

They fall into a relaxed silence soon after that, Alex's head leaning on Henry's shoulder and Henry's fingers dancing over the keys, not playing anything in particular but simply letting himself go into a bit of improvisation, flitting between Wagner and Debussy and Schoenberg. Alex has gotten so much better over the last four years at recognizing little patterns of notes in a piece and connecting it to the composer, if he says so himself, and Henry nods every time Alex guesses correctly. He then switches back to the piece he was playing when Alex first got back home, something Alex doesn't quite recognize, but he stays silent and watches Henry play softly, the tune rich and beautiful and somehow sexy. He's been finding classical music to be more and more sexy ever since he met Henry.

"What's this one?" he asks.

 _"Les Valseuses,"_ Henry says in perfect French. It makes Alex's stomach flip. "Stéphane Grappelli. Also the name of a 1974 French film. It translates to 'The Waltzers.'"

"Huh," Alex says. "That's pretty."

"It's meant as vulgar slang for the ball sack, darling."

Alex nearly chokes on his own spit. Henry laughs fully, abandoning the piece and focusing on trying to conceal his laughter, biting down on his bottom lip. It doesn't help. Alex shakes his head. "Well, I wasn't wrong to think of it as sexy."

"Sexy?" Henry repeats with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Yeah, well, I think anything you play is sexy," Alex says honestly. "Play it again."

Henry does. Alex pays careful attention to the way his long fingers move over the keys, the way they stretch to pluck a higher note, the careful flick of his wrist as he plays ever so delicately. And maybe it was all their talk about "sexy," or maybe it's just the simple fact of Henry and how he can still make Alex's brain turn to mush, even still, but Alex's mind starts to wander elsewhere. Namely, what else Henry can do with his hand.

The brief mention of balls doesn't help his case, either. It's not his fault that the way Henry curves his wrist to stretch to a different section of the piano is the exact same way he curves his wrist when he's jerking off Alex and he moves his hand to cup and tease his balls. It's not his fault that his fingers flex over the keys the exact same way they flex when Henry fucks himself with his fingers. It's not his fault that mutual blowjobs in the shower this morning apparently weren't enough to satisfy his desires. It's not his fault that he has an absolute sex god of a fiancé. It's not his fault that Henry's piano playing makes his competency kink fucking skyrocket.

"Let me try."

Alex is soon situated in between Henry's legs on the piano bench, Henry's hands covering his as they move slowly, slowly over the keys. Henry is still playing the Grappelli piece, much more spaced out with Alex trying to follow, but somehow, the dragged-out sound of the song makes him flush even warmer. And if he's half-hard in between Henry's legs, then he's half-hard in between Henry's legs. And if he starts to grind back on Henry's crotch as inconspicuously as he can, then he starts to grind back on Henry's crotch as inconspicuously as he can.

"What do you think you're doing?" Henry asks lowly after a few minutes.

"Nothing, baby." Alex presses back against Henry again, not missing the way Henry's breath hitches as he does so. "I don't know what you're talking about."

But now that Henry is aware of his game, it's so much more tempting. Henry misses a few notes that he normally wouldn't dare to skip over each time Alex grinds on him. He turns his head to the side and raises his chin, pressing his lips to the underside of Henry's jaw, leaving a lingering kiss on his skin, slightly scruffy from a day's worth of not shaving. He moves his mouth along his jaw, slowly, teasingly. Henry stills.

"Don't stop," Alex murmurs against his neck, sucking lightly on his skin.

Henry laughs at that, somewhat hysterically, Alex notes. "Christ, Alex, what do you want me to do?"

"Keep playing," Alex says simply. "I like hearing you."

Henry exhales a shaky breath, but soon resumes the song. Alex gets lost in the music, letting the deep notes of the piano resonate through him, spurring him on even more. He bites down on his jaw, and Henry emits a choked moan.

If Alex is doing this, then goddammit, he's going to go all the way. He's already at an odd angle from kissing and sucking at Henry's neck, his body turned slightly towards the side but not all the way, but far enough for there to be a gap just big enough for Alex to slip his hand between their bodies. He presses his palm flat against Henry's crotch, where there's already a gracious-sized bulge. He rubs Henry slowly, making him hiss and hit a rather unflattering note on the piano. He moves his hand harder, kisses his skin a bit rougher, trying to make Henry give up all restraint.

Alex runs his thumb over the waistband of Henry's boxers, just barely skimming the stretch of skin not hidden by his shirt. Henry gasps and his hands fumble. It sounds as if he's given up trying to play coherently, and by now, Alex can't bring himself to care. He continues to tease Henry, whispers of a kiss against his jaw, the ghost of his fingers on his clothed cock, until the sound of the piano effectively stops and Henry's hands are tight on his hips, spinning him around in a half-standing, half-kneeling position, one knee bent and perched on the piano bench between Henry's spread legs and his other leg stretched to the floor. He raises himself on his toes, gaining a few more inches of height, sliding their noses together.

"What is it, baby?" Alex asks with a lick of his lips, one hand squeezing Henry's thigh and the other cupping his face.

Henry growls. "You know what it is, you wanker," he whispers. They're so close that their lips brush with each word they speak. "Now are you going to continue to tease me like the arse you are, or are you going to drag me to the bedroom and actually fuck me?"

"The bedroom?" Alex chuckles, sliding up his hand to thread his fingers through Henry's hair. He moves his mouth to Henry's ear and says, "Remember when you wouldn't let me fuck you on that piano back in Kensington? Well, this one isn't an old antique, babe."

Henry's breath stills. When Alex draws back to meet his gaze, his eyes are dark, boring straight into Alex's. "You want to do it on the piano?" he questions, his voice much lower than it was a moment ago.

Alex does want to. He's wanted to take Henry on some gorgeous piano ever since that day after Wimbledon during their times of clandestine hook ups, when they would quite literally fly across oceans just for a chance to see each other again, when Alex was desperately trying to convince himself that he wasn't falling in love with Henry. They didn't have a piano their first few months of living in the brownstone, and when they finally did get their hands on one, it was a small, worn down upright piano that they tucked in the living room, right next to the stairs. It was only supposed to be temporary, but Henry grew rather attached to that small piano, and they ended up keeping it for much longer than intended. In fact, they still have it — it's sitting in the same spot in the living room right now. And while they love that piano, and have had several different make out sessions on its bench, it's not quite sturdy enough to push Henry against it and fuck him. Alex has tried many, many times. So they haven't.

This piano, a sleek, black, baby grand piano, was an engagement gift from Bea. It's beautiful, and Henry fell in love with it instantly, but they both agreed that the one in the living room had become a part of their home and couldn't possibly be thrown away. So they compromised: one piano downstairs, one piano upstairs in the study. It's actually quite perfect this way, Alex thinks — when he's in the kitchen cooking dinner, Henry can play just a room away from him, still close enough to hold a conversation. And when Alex has to put some extra time into preparing his cases, Henry can move upstairs and play there, his presence closer than it would be from the living room, grounding Alex, keeping him sane. It's a fairly new addition to their home, seeing as they got engaged only six months ago, and Alex has been busy at the firm, and Henry has been busy with the shelters, and the times where the mood struck them, they haven't been anywhere near the piano.

But now. _Now._

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it," Alex murmurs, tightening his hold on Henry's hair. "You, flat on your back on the lid, legs wrapped around me, getting fucked so hard that you'll feel me every time you sit down? Let's stick it to those old white composers, too; bet you anything they were homophobes. We could have them rolling in their graves."

"Chopin actually may have been queer," Henry retorts, although his voice sounds slightly strangled. "There's several love letters he wrote addressed to men —"

"Mmh, baby, I love it when you get all historical on me," Alex says, closing the incredibly small distance between them and molding their lips together.

The kiss is messy and wanton, desire built up from all their teasing, bubbling up inside them, overflowing as their mouths meet over and over again. Alex groans and pulls Henry as close to his body as possible. And then Henry does that thing, that thing that makes Alex's stomach jolt every time without fail, and his grip on Alex's waist tightens, and he hauls him into his lap, immediately grinding their hips together, no shame in sight. Alex can't help the starving moan that escapes him when their tongues meet. But it doesn't matter, not when Henry is just as needy, not when they make quick work of Alex's gray blazer and drop it to the floor, not when Henry unbuttons his black button-up as fast as he can and lets it hang open on Alex's torso, whimpering hungrily into his mouth as he runs his strong hands all over Alex's chest.

"Baby," Alex manages. Their hips are rolling rhythmically now, and he can feel Henry's growing length directly against his thigh, the thin fabric of his boxers doing next to nothing to hide his enthusiasm. "Fuck. Turn around. I need to suck you off."

Henry muffles his own groan with a bite at Alex's lower lip. "I thought you wanted to fuck me?"

"I do. But I think I'll die if I don't have your cock in my mouth in the next ten seconds."

Henry moans. Nods too many times. He turns around on the bench and gently pushes Alex off of him. Alex climbs out of his lap but doesn't disconnect their lips, cupping Henry's jaw with both hands and greedily licking into his mouth as he sinks to his knees in front of the piano bench. He only pulls away when Henry gives an impatient whine and jolts his hips forward. He lifts himself off the bench and Alex shoves his boxers down to his ankles, his cock springing free, large and heavy and precome already forming at the tip. Alex's mouth waters just looking at it.

Henry's head tips back when Alex takes the crown into his mouth, a soft gasp escaping him. Alex swirls his tongue around the tip, then lowers his head down, fast, faster than he probably should, and his eyes start to water but Henry's hands are gripping his hair and Henry's groans are his favorite sound in the world and Henry's cock tastes so good, and Alex doesn't care. He curls his hand around the base of Henry's dick, trying to give him every bit of stimulation possible, and he runs his tongue along the underside of his cock and sucks.

If the noises Henry is making is anything to go by, he thinks he's doing pretty well. He hopes so, he's gone four years of sucking the same cock; surely his skills are refined enough to satisfy Henry at any given time. He begins to bob his head in a fast rhythm, blinking up at Henry, seeing his blown pupils and parted lips, his bottom lip already slightly swollen from biting down on it, and Alex can feel himself getting even harder in his pants. He pulls fully off his dick, making Henry whine, first in protest, then in encouragement as Alex begins to stroke him fast and hard, licking and pressing open-mouthed kisses to the swollen head.

"Have I ever told you how much I love sucking your cock?" Alex mutters, his voice rough at the edges. "Because I really —" He licks away a bead of precome rolling down his shaft, "— fucking —" A kiss to the underside of his cock, right against a vein, "— love it."

"Why don't you — _ah."_ Henry chokes when Alex sucks one of his balls into his mouth. "Why don't you continue to show me instead of running your pretty mouth?"

Alex pulls away with a wet pop. "You want me to show you?" he repeats. His voice is so much lower than he thought it would be. It even excites him. "Okay, baby. I'll put on a show."

Without warning, he slides both hands behind Henry's knees and throws his legs over his shoulders. Henry almost tips back if not for the piano behind him, elbows falling on the open keys with an unflattering clang. Henry almost winces, but he seems to forget all about the sound when Alex sinks his mouth back down on his dick, not stopping until the tip of his cock hits his throat and his nose is pressed into the dark blond curls of his pubic hair.

"Alex, oh Christ, oh fuck, _fuck —"_ Henry chants as Alex wastes no time, bobbing his head and sucking him hard and fast, groaning each time Henry's dick hits the back of his throat, making him gag slightly. He can feel a string of saliva dripping down his chin, and it's so messy, but it's with _Henry,_ and it doesn't matter how messy or clean or good or bad the sex is, it's with him. Sex with Henry is always so hot, so thrilling wherever it is. He wonders if it's a cause of the piano that's making him particularly aroused. Because the keys clang every time Henry moves, which is quite a lot, especially when Alex has given up on teasing and is solely focused on getting him off, and the sounds of the piano only spur him on even more, a reminder of what they're doing, a reminder of what Alex has wanted to do for a long time in the making. He's so focused on Henry's cock in his mouth and Henry's hands in his hair and the harsh noises of the piano that he doesn't notice Henry squirming, doesn't notice Henry babbling his name, only coming back to his senses when Henry takes a fistful of his curls and tugs him off his dick. Alex pants in surprise, looking up at Henry, already so fucked out, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I was going to come," Henry says almost apologetically, like he was sorry to pull Alex off him, like he wanted nothing more but to lie there, half his body against the piano, and let Alex bring him to an orgasm with nothing but his tongue.

"That's the plan," Alex says in response, reaching for Henry's hard dick, but Henry swats his hand away before he gets there.

"Fuck me," Henry demands.

Alex blinks. Fuck. "Yeah, okay."

Henry moves his legs from Alex's shoulders and stands up, grabbing Alex by the open collar of his shirt and bring him up with him, pulling their bodies together and meeting him with a harsh kiss. Alex can feel the desperation behind the kiss, the lust, and he knows how much Henry gets off from the taste of his dick on Alex's tongue, so he opens his mouth and kisses him messily, thrusting his tongue into his mouth, and Henry moans and drops a hand to his ass. He starts walking backwards and Alex moves with him. They slam into the edge of the piano at one point, but they're both so clouded by desire that neither of them stops to think about the possibility of pain, and finally Alex has Henry right where he wants him — trapped between his body and the piano lid, grinding shamelessly against each other. He's just about to gather Henry in his arms and plop him down on the lid when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"Wait," Henry says, breathing heavily. His lips are swollen and a deep shade of pink. It takes every ounce of self-control in Alex's body to not lean in and kiss him again. "Go... go get a condom."

That makes Alex pause. "A condom?" he repeats, making sure he heard correctly.

Henry glares at him. "You will _not_ be getting come on this piano."

Alex would have laughed if he wasn't so fucking horny. "Oh my God, _fine,_ if that's what it takes for me to fuck you, I'll wear a stupid condom." He pats at his front pockets, back pockets, growing increasingly frustrated at the fact that they rarely use condoms anymore, so of course Alex doesn't have one on him, and of course he has to pause this stupid fucking fantasy of his to get one. "I need to find some in our room. You, er... can you keep yourself occupied?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll manage," Henry responds in a high voice, eyes dropping down to his hard cock. Alex desperately does not look down.

"Okay," he breathes out. "Just — just, fuck —" He can't help it, his hands find Henry's cheeks and he pulls him in for another frenzied kiss, a quick slide of tongues, a few bites at the mouth. "Don't — don't move," he says breathlessly when they pull away. He slides his fingers down his jaw, pulls him in for one more kiss. "Fuck."

Alex doesn't think there's been a time where he's rushed any faster to their bedroom. He hurriedly moves to the nightstand drawers, grabbing the bottle of lube in the top drawer and searching around for a sleeve of condoms, or one, just one, he would be so fucking happy with just one. But there isn't any in the top drawer, nor in the middle one, and he's in the middle of rummaging through the bottom drawer, the unofficial junk drawer of the nightstand, pushing away a vibrator and an annotated copy of _Wuthering Heights_ and miscellaneous cuff links, just about to give up when his hand brushes against the smooth packaging of a condom.

"Oh, fuck yes," Alex mutters to himself. He doesn't even bother shutting the drawer; he races out of the room in a pathetic little half-jog, half-run, so desperate to get back to Henry, so fucking desperate, shedding the shirt that's still clinging to his torso as he moves down the hallway, the stupid fucking thing, getting in the way, and he's already prepared to snap open the lube as soon as he walks back into the room, but all thoughts promptly fade from existence when he _does_ turn the corner into the study and his eyes fall upon Henry.

He's not in the same position Alex left him, and even though Alex told him not to move, the sight before him is so much better: Henry, on his back on top of the piano, two fingers buried deep inside his hole.

"Henry," Alex moans, eyes fixed on Henry's stretched body as he crosses to the piano, "baby. Fucking _hell,_ are you _trying_ to kill me?"

Henry gives him a fucked-out smile, lips parting in a gasp as he crooks his fingers. His lower half is bare but he's still sporting the t-shirt and cardigan, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, exposing the lean muscles of his abdomen, his jutting hipbones, the soft skin just above his pubic hair. A strand of hair is stuck to his forehead, and there's precipitation decorating the hollow of his throat, and he has a hand around his cock and two fingers up his ass, and Alex thinks that Henry has never looked sexier.

"Took too long," Henry chuckles, but he does pull his fingers out and rubs them against his hole, shiny with his own spit, groaning weakly. "Alex, love, I need —"

"I know," Alex says, already one step ahead of him. He slicks his fingers with lube and slides two of them back into Henry. He's already loose from the few minutes of stretching himself and his muscles easily open up to the intrusion. Alex wastes no time, pumping his fingers in and out of Henry at a fast pace, causing Henry to throw his head back against the piano, moaning and whimpering.

"God, you're just _taking_ it," Alex says, mesmerized, adding a third finger and twisting them inside. Henry gasps. His legs wraps around Alex's waist, locking his ankles on the small of his back, and he draws him even closer. It makes Alex's fingers slide deeper, unintentionally hitting his prostate, which makes Henry buck his hips up.

"P-Please, _Alex,"_ Henry whines.

"You like that, sweetheart?" Alex says breathlessly. He thrusts into Henry's prostate once, twice more before pulling his fingers out. Henry nods, chest heaving, eyes half-shut. "Well, you're going to like my cock a lot more, then, hmm?"

"Yes," Henry breathes out. "Need you."

"Fuck, okay." Alex undos his belt with fumbling hands, shoves his pants and underwear down to his mid-thigh. For not being touched the entire time, he's so fucking hard, his cock immediately curving towards his stomach, the head flushed and red, beads of precome forming and dripping from his slit. He groans thickly when he finally wraps his hand around himself, giving his dick a few long strokes, spreading the precome along the head. Henry, having met the end of his patience, snatches the condom from where Alex tossed it on top of the piano and rips the wrapper open with his teeth. He presses it into Alex's hand and Alex immediately rolls it onto his throbbing dick. He pours more lube into his palm and slathers it over his length. "You ready?"

Henry huffs. "I've been ready since you shoved me up against the bloody piano, Alex, just — oh fuck, Christ, _yes —"_

Alex pushes in without warning, not stopping until he's buried deep inside Henry's tight heat, his muscles squeezing his cock just right, making him gasp in delight. And Henry is just as lost in it, one hand gripping his hard cock, the other pulling at his own hair, and a deep, guttural groan escapes from his chest as Alex snaps his hips forward. His legs tighten around him, drawing Alex in closer, deeper.

"Baby," Alex manages, digging his nails into Henry's thighs. He can feel sweat already starting to roll down his neck. "Shit. You feel fucking _amazing._ I knew you would love this. Fuck, what do you need?"

"Harder," Henry says immediately, and Alex complies, angling up and pounding into him with no remorse. Henry chokes on a moan. He's abandoned his grip on his hair for the edge of the piano instead, clutching onto the lid for dear life, turning his head to the side and biting on his bicep to stifle his noises. Alex tuts and aims for his prostate, sending shivers all throughout Henry's body.

"Wanna hear you, Hen," he says through a gasp. Henry whimpers, in either in approval or embarrassment, he doesn't know, but he lets his head fall back on the piano lid, locking eyes with Alex. His pupils are so blown that Alex can barely see any trace of blue in them. His moans are louder as well, music to Alex's ears; and it's ironic, he thinks deliriously in his sex-crazed mind, that he'd rather listen to Henry's lustful cries than the beautiful, expensive piano they're currently fucking on top of.

Maybe it's the piano, or maybe it's because he's barely touched himself and his cock is begging for release, or maybe it's simply the sight of Henry spread out underneath him, but Alex doesn't expect to last long. His belt buckle hits the edge of the piano with each thrust. He would be more concerned about denting the piano if he wasn't balls deep in his fiancé, but he is, and Henry gasps and clenches around him, and suddenly the possibility of dents in the piano are the least of his concerns.

"Oh my god," Alex mutters, biting on his bottom lip. He's teetering right on the edge of his orgasm; he can feel it threatening to bubble over, but Henry hasn't come yet. He groans weakly and focuses on steadying his erratic thrusts. "Henry, I don't know if I can —"

"It's okay," Henry says through a moan. He works his cock faster, his fingertips decorated with precome as he thumbs over his slit. "Christ, Alex, I just want to feel you, come on, _fuck_ me —"

Alex gives a great shuddering gasp. He pounds into Henry's prostate two, three times more before he can't hold back anymore, and he digs his nails hard into Henry's skin and spills deep inside the condom. His hips move sporadically, riding out his orgasm, and Henry moans quietly with each jerk of his hips.

But Henry is still hard, and they can't have that, oh no, they can't possibly have that, and Alex pulls out of him and shucks off the condom, dumping it in the trash bin thankfully not far away from the piano. He drops to his knees and grabs Henry's strong calfs, yanking him down the piano. Henry gives a small yelp of surprise at the sudden movement. He props himself on his elbows, a dazed look still evident in his eyes, no doubt from his building orgasm, and stares down at Alex. "What are you —"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before Alex has his mouth on him again. He sinks his mouth onto Henry's cock in one fluid motion, groaning at the taste, making Henry shiver from the vibrations. He moves one hand in between Henry's legs and immediately pushes two fingers into his well-stretched hole. Henry's hips buck up, and he writhes on the piano, and Alex fucks him hard with his fingers, relentlessly rubbing against his prostate, and Henry is babbling by now, a telltale sign that he's just about to come, saying things like, "Alex, Alex, that's so good, more, harder," and it practically makes Alex fall apart.

Even so, he still pulls off his cock with a wet pop, set on teasing Henry until he can't possibly bear it any longer. "You like this, don't you?" he asks, his voice so rough, and Henry keens and pushes back against Alex's fingers. He pushes in another finger next to the two. "You like it so much that you would let me do every dirty thing to you on this piano. Maybe next time you do one of your lives, I'll be under the piano, sucking your dick while you play, and no one will even know. That is, if you can keep quiet enough. Or maybe I'll have you sit in my lap on my cock and have you play like that. You think you can ride cock just as well as you can play? We can put it to the test, baby."

Henry comes. No warning, no nothing — he just comes, the first streak catching Alex by surprise and landing on his cheek, down his jaw, and he brings his mouth back to Henry's cock and wraps his lips around the head. Henry's come floods in his mouth and he swallows greedily, swiping his tongue along the underside of his dick, brushing at the sensitive skin behind the head, letting Henry ride out the orgasm. He crooks the fingers that are still inside of him, rubbing gently along his rim, making Henry jerk with overstimulation.

When Alex pulls back, Henry is a gasping mess, his eyes lidded, his head tipped back between his shoulders. Alex wipes the come off his face, licks it from his fingers. He pulls his fingers out of Henry's hole, making him shudder. Alex stands up as best as he can. His legs have a slight shake to them.

"Hen, you okay?" he mutters. He cradles his face in his hands and kisses his chin, softly, tenderly.

A small sigh slips from Henry's lips. "Perfect," he manages to say. He scoots forward as much as he can, and Alex takes the hint and helps him sit up properly. Henry blinks his eyes open, slowly, smiling when Alex's face comes into focus. He leans forward, captures his lips in a soft kiss. "Mmh. You always know what to say to me."

Alex laughs against his mouth. "Is that so?"

"Perfectly," Henry says after another chaste kiss. He draws back slightly, his nose sliding against Alex's. "But we cannot do any of that. We _cannot._ You know that." He pauses. Licks his lips. "Although. I wouldn't mind having you on your knees while I play Liszt for hours on end. No cameras. No livestreams. Just the two of us."

His voice drops an octave lower with every word, and dear God, if it doesn't make Alex shiver at the thought alone. He presses into Henry's space and murmurs, "Any chance you're ready for round two?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
